#knbsecretsanta2020 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoichee · 3 years

Text

Hortensias

Midorima x Takao

rpg!AU

Word Count: 5271

Synopsis: Takao, a cheeky yet innovative alchemist, accidentally crash lands near Midorima’s target and causes them to flee. Midorima is seething, not just because Takao made him fail a vital commission, but because Takao ruined his perfect streak of quest clears that he maintained for years ever since he joined Akashi’s guild.

Note: I don’t write character x character but since it is for @knbsecretsanta‘s event, and since @iseefairies had listed some ships, I thought to experiment with this and see how this went;; based off of the official art twitter of KNB’s fake RPG here !

@knb-kreations

Merry Christmas, Aly! I hope the year has been treating you well <3 This is actually my first time writing a KNB ship as I’ve always stuck to KNB x reader! But without further ado, here’s the fic!

»»—————　☼　—————««

Another gentle zephyr slinks through the whimsical city, where dandelions flutter past the sturdy, maintained walls that embrace its citizens in everlasting security, and it is evident that the residents felt safe from the way they carry themselves. Here, everyone chatters away merrily, as mothers gossip with one another at the local produce booths and fathers drink away to oblivion in the local taverns with their friends. Children are let loose, playing a one-sided game of tag with unsuspecting pigeons, grubby hands waiting to pounce on them at the perfect opportunity.

Despite the overwhelming bustling, Takao knows everyone in the city and the city’s topography like the back of his hand. An equally chatty person himself, he can’t help but wedge himself into the huntsmen’s conversation about recent news of game or even lodge himself into the housewives’ whispers with an easygoing joke that instantly gets them giggling. The latter, well, he’s required to know the land of the local area. Otherwise, how could he properly do his job as an alchemist?

Due to his gregarious nature, everyone knows Takao Kazunari, the “friendly alchemist.” Takao, a young man described to be the next “enlightener” of the era. Takao, an alchemist gifted with the convenient ability to “see” the properties and compatibilities of the elements found everywhere; it certainly had played a critical part in shooting him to high prestige among the nation’s scholarship, even if he never took his studies seriously back in the academies. Every new discovery he made, every innovation he accidentally pioneered, were always due to his own whims and morbid curiosities.

What if he took a slime creature’s remains and melted it with an open flame?

What if he extracted oils from petals of specific poisonous plants to turn them nontoxic?

What if he took certain minerals and infused them with randomized doses of ether energy?

After all, he was bound to become utterly bored in the city if he had nothing else to occupy his attention. That was the beauty of being an alchemist. One can always find something new to tinker with out of things that already exist, to push the limits of matter and energy.

Even so, he found the excitement of being an alchemist dwindling with each passing day. Especially ever since his application to one of the most prestigious guilds was immediately rejected despite his rising stardom. At first, he didn’t mind the rejection—sure, it stung and dumped an ice-cold bucket of reality on him, but he figured to shrug it off and finally decided to work hard, hoping for another momentous opportunity to come by. Still, he was a tad bitter about the fact that he was very close to being accepted as an official guildmate had it not been for a “masterful archer” showing up to take the limited spot away. He remembered a pink-haired girl, assumed to be the guild’s recruiter and receptionist, reluctantly telling him that the guild was prioritizing an experienced warrior over a civilian alchemist due to a recent onslaught of hostile monsters roaming outside. Takao eventually came to terms with her explanation, and with that, he kept the thoughts of the guild in the back of his mind while he worked.

That was, until every time he tried to do anything, intervention was required specifically from that guild.

He needed to purchase a specific ingredient that was labeled a controlled substance? He needed special permission from that guild.

He wanted to go outside the city walls to pick a few plants and carcasses for an experiment? He needed to go through extra lengths to submit a request for an escort from that guild.

He wanted to travel beyond the local area to other regions to expand his alchemy repertoire? He needed to be an approved member from that guild.

It was beyond ridiculous—how was it that no other guild besides that guild being granted much authority over the city?

Granted, he could’ve just gone along with the established rules and merrily be on his way, but the thought of potentially meeting the person who took his opportunity away dug up unresolved feelings of bitterness.

I’ll show them… I just need to be so good that they have no choice but to notice me.

Even if he didn’t have the innate miracle of being able to wield ether energy during combat like the recent recruits of that guild, he still was undeniably a prodigy in his own arts; he just sometimes wished he was more of the first than the latter.

———

What are the odds that today was when almost every guild member was not anywhere in the close proximity of the city?

Close to none.

Apparently, local knights were apprehensive in guarding the perimeter without the comforting presence of the powerful guildmates nearby, and it looks like the anxiousness spread to the rest of the cityfolk. The fathers were by their families’ sides and stationed outside their own homes, while mothers wrapped their arms around their children inside in apprehension. Some children picked up on the mood changes, while some were confused or annoyed in why they couldn’t be outside chasing after birds.

For Takao, this was yet again, another momentous opportunity he had been waiting for.

He had his eyes set on the prize: the ether-infused hydrangea flower patches outside the walls near the forest. No one was going to be around to pay much attention to a lone alchemist moving about when they had more dire situations to focus their attention on: the rogue tribes, or hostile beasts, or even the enemy regions adjacent to the land.

His physique was quite deceiving; even if Takao was a mere lean civilian, he was more than capable of scaling up the stone walls and doing simple acrobatics to avoid authority detection, and he easily slipped to the wild with the advantage of the lack of “watch dogs” around.

“Sheesh… finally, no one here to breathe down my neck every second…”

Takao stretches his arms, sore from the physical exertion moments before, and exhales. He scans his surroundings before determining the best route to his destination and promptly jogs. Except that it took him longer than expected to get there considering that he kept getting sidetracked by every object that caught his eye, either packing them into his bag for future experiments or chasing after them in an attempt to view them up close.

Nonetheless, he reached the hydrangea patches by late afternoon, and he eagerly plucked off each flower bud by their different colors, wondering if the pH that causes the color diversity would affect the results of his experimentation.

“It wouldn’t hurt to treat myself with a quick experiment…” he murmurs to himself, looking at the colorful, tall bushels around him in the quiet meadow. “There’s no one here anyways…” His face grows giddy at the thrill of the possibilities for the first time in a while, and he hastily brings out small bottles of liquified ether energy and the melted slime remnants he had from past experiments. He pops open the cork caps and dumps each colored bud into various bottles and seals it back up with the cap, and he gives each glass a firm shake before he sets them all on the ground.

With that, he makes himself comfortable on the soft grass against the tree, taking out a small sketchbook to record his observations.

Three bottles filled with blue hydrangeas stood innocently and perfectly aligned for Takao to observe without any inhibitions. The first bottle had the blue hydrangea soaked in the ether energy, the second bottle had the hydrangea partially enveloped by the melted slime, and the third bottle had the flower mixed with both the ether and slime. Half an hour passed by uneventfully, and Takao slightly scowled.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles. “Not even a teensy reaction from these?” He huffs and blows the stray bangs out of his eyes before he puts down his sketchbook, and he quickly crawls to lift the first bottle up. “I thought for sure the first bottle would have something happening…”

He gingerly opens the cork to smell the bottle’s contents.

Sweet, yet refreshing and crisp like cold morning air.

It would definitely make a superb fragrance for the perfume shops back home, but it wasn’t what Takao had in mind when he wanted to visit the patches.

Perhaps Takao should’ve actually paid attention to his alchemist studies back during schooling because out of agitation, he may have not noticed, or rather disregarded, the odd feeling that grew in his stomach when he picked up the second bottle. To any other alchemist who learned the basics of experiment procedures, they would’ve been much more meticulous and careful, and many would even notice the strange pressure emanating from the sealed bottle. But to Takao, he’s always believed that philosophy had done more harm than good in alchemy, putting limitations in the efforts of pushing humanity’s potential. But perhaps the stuffy adults at the academies were correct this time.

Because the moment he slowly twisted the cap off, his immediate instinct was to tilt the bottle away from his face within a millisecond, and the bottle’s contents exploded like a rocket right after in a hot goo of blue hues. Any other second later and Takao’s face could’ve been melted off with a blue stain. But unfortunately for his surroundings, the entire nearby flowers and grass patches have been repainted a cerulean blue in uneven distributions of splotches. Even in the aftermath, the bottle in his hands was abnormally warm.

“Well, I don’t think that’s what I meant when I said I wanted a reaction…” he laughs to himself and gets up to examine the results. Wherever the blue touched, it completely liquified and melted it, evident from the way the petals were dripping even despite the bottle’s contents being completely dried. “Now how do I even fit these into my bag without melting a hole through it?...”

It seems that his words completely jinxed his current situation because he felt the blue-stained grass and patches pressuring and heating up again to explode, and while he tried to leap away to put some distance, the colorful explosion was much more violent. All Takao registered was his body blown back like a leaf across the meadow before he landed harshly on the mushy soil, feeling the crunched up flowers underneath. He rapidly blinks away the blue in his vision before he saw a cloaked figure scurrying away from the scene.

“Ah… shit, how am I gonna find my stuff?” Takao grumbles, more worried about his missing possessions than whatever he just witnessed. “It looks like they fell through the bag anyways…”

“You should be more concerned about the consequences you’ll face for letting the perpetrator escape rather than the contents of your mere sachet.”

Takao jolts out of his musings to face a viridescent-haired man, with equally striking eyes. However, the scowl on his face was the most defining feature of his sharp countenance.

“Uh…” Takao averts his eyes before he turns back to stare at his intense glare with a casual shrug. “My bad?”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, look, I had no idea, really,” he protests, holding his hands up in good faith. “I just got blasted over here from some flowers just a bit away, and I’m not here to steal your game—look, see? I don’t have a single weapon on me.”

“The issue,” the man glowers. “—is that you let the man escape. You gave away our location by painting a target on our back by making explosions and permanently marking the fields with a jarring blue—”

“No, they are not permanent colorations,” Takao corrects. “Besides, you could always find him again right? I mean, he hasn’t ran too far off. Maybe instead of talking to me, you could’ve found him by now… why are you looking at me like that?”

“You… can’t be serious,” he deadpans before hardening his expression again. “Do you not understand? The enemy left, like any person with common sense would do. Every second the person is out free, there is higher risk of danger for the city and my recor—wait… you’re not even from the guild.”

“You’re from that guild?!” Shit… Takao was unbelievably screwed. Not only did he not get what he came for, but he lost the majority of his possessions and got caught on the trip by a guild member themselves no less.

The man narrows his eyes. “What’s your excuse of being all the way out here without any guildmate escort?” Takao nervously chuckles to try to dissuade him. “I will not tolerate any shit from your end.”

“Well, you know… afternoon stroll, got lost, got separated from the escort ‘cause of that, and…”

“Oh? If that’s the case,” the man said, softening his face in mild understanding but still visibly peeved. “Might you give a physical description or a name? Such irresponsibility will not be tolerated by Akashi.”

“Well… I didn’t really get a close look at this person per say…” he says. “I guess I was so excited for the potential fruits of my experiment that I—uh, didn’t bother to… look.”

“... Is that so.” The man narrows his eyes at Takao’s hesitance. “Would you like me to escort you back and you can point to me the member you’re most familiar with—wait, where are you going?!”

“It was nice knowing you, but I’m a busy man!” With that, Takao sprints away from him, hoping that he can eventually find the looming city walls as a general pinpoint for the right directions. But before he can dash past eight meters away, his senses tingle to dodge something.

It was the man’s shower of arrows.

“What the hell?! What kind of person would SHOOT at an innocent civili—”

“SILENCE or you shall receive further retribution, for my shooting range knows no bounds.”

“... But you just missed.” At Takao’s words, the man’s aura of hostility spikes drastically and he prepares his bow to shoot another four arrows at the alchemist before Takao has a revelation. “Ah, ha! Aren’t you the famed marksman, Midorima, who has a spotless record of clearing every quest you undertake and never missing your shots…? Or had a perfect reco—HOLY SHIT, can you please stop trying to shoot at me?”

“You have lip for someone who can’t remotely defend himself.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s because you might be the person I have a grudge against if my intuition is correct.” Takao casually shrugs but his own hostile aura slightly catches “Midorima” off guard.

“And I am indeed Midorima Shintaro. What of it?”

“Blegh, gross,” Takao says, completely ignoring Midorima to examine his shot arrows on the ground. “These arrows are beyond functional. How can you even shoot with these, much less even keep them?”

“H-How dare you—!” Midorima grows slightly flustered, surprised that even a normal civilian would comment on his weapon of choice. “These are my lucky arrows, obviously! I have other arrows and bows for other purposes! Don’t get the wrong idea!”

“Did you really have a perfect streak?” Takao inquires, haphazardly holding the arrow by its dull head. “Even a novice archer knows to stay away from this sort of craftsmanship.”

“I’m simply testing the limits of my skills,” Midorima snaps, walking over to Takao to snatch the arrow off his hand while collecting the others. “I do as many things as humanly possible to push the limits, and that is why fate grants me favorable outcomes, regardless of whatever tool I have on hand.”

“You still missed though.”

“You will not speak a word of this.”

“You can’t make me.”

“You will not. Speak. Of. This.”

“You also failed a mission too. Oh, what would the people think of you when I run back to the city to deliver the news?”

“You wouldn’t even have a chance,” Midorima says, grabbing Takao’s arm roughly. “You’ll be sent straight to the interrogation room and get personally questioned by Akashi.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Takao protests. “Easy there pal, easy! Let’s not do something so extreme, okay? Look, here me out, I kind of need to have a good reputation to wait for an opening in the guild rosters again to reapply, and you took my spot the last time.”

“I didn’t take it, fate was more favorable to me than to you and anyone can easily see why.”

“Ugh, whatever! Hear me out, I won’t say a word about your record hiccups and you’ll cover up my trip here! We both get something out of this… deal?”

“You have the audacity to think that I’ll go along with this—?”

“Then you’re okay with me tarnishing your record? I’m quite popular with the townsfolk, if I do say so myself.”

“... Fine.” He releases his arm and shoves him away. “But I will not hesitate to apprehend you if you go beyond the walls again for your frolicking.”

“And I wasn’t frolicking,” Takao scoffs. “I was doing alchemy.”

“There’s no difference.”

“Oh shut up, dullhead,” Takao says, waving him off dismissively and ignoring the way Midorima was ready to strangle him. “Before we go back to the city, I have to go look for my stuff… they’re actually quite dangerous if an unsuspecting person picked it up.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place, idiot?” Midorima scowls. “Let’s go.”

———

“Are you really an alchemist?” Midorima asks, gauging Takao’s jittery behavior as he scans for his missing belongings. “The way you carry yourself is more akin to a troublemaker quack than a legitimate scholar.”

“If you’re not gonna help me look for my things,” Takao retorts, “then go sit at the tree while you wait for me, Shin-chan.”

“What the hell did you just call me?—”

“Shhh,” Takao whispers, putting an abrupt finger to Midorima’s lips. “I hear sizzling nearby. Do you hear it too?” All Midorima does in response is to send a glare at Takao for invading his personal space but nonetheless gives a reluctant nod in affirmation.

“Alright, I know you think I’m a fraud, but do heed my words when I tell you to stand back,” Takao says, tutting his finger across Midorima’s face. Midorima was this close to delivering a swift knockout and leaving him in the fields. “But if you don’t wanna listen, that’s fine, too. But if something happens, you can go cry to the stars and fate for your misfortunes.” And Midorima only rolls his eyes at his jab but still steps back a few meters.

“... Be swift about it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Midorima merely observes Takao waving his hand dismissively to shoo him off before he dramatically sneaks to the source of the sound (which prompted another eye roll from Midorima’s end), and he stares at Takao’s surprisingly determined face when he became enraptured during his work.

Takao notes that it was actually the third bottle from his experiment earlier today, and some of the contents have partially spilled from the opened bottle. To try to salvage the rest of the uncontaminated concoction, he pulls out a tiny spoon and tidies up the mess before promptly sealing the glass again. He sighs and stretches out his arms before he notices that despite the spilt concoction on the grass was still sizzling, there wasn’t any further reaction.

“Hey Shin-chan.” Midorima slightly flinches out of his daze at the sudden beckon of his name.

“Are you seriously going to call me that?”

“Bring your arrows here, would ya?”

“And you can kindly fuck off before you can ruin my luck for today by messing with the blessed arrows.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, already,” Takao huffs. “Just give me an ‘unlucky’ arrow then.”

Wordlessly, Midorima tosses over a broken, chipped arrow from his sack, and Takao stares at the “arrow” and then at the green-haired archer incredulously, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

“Broken arrows bring misfortune.”

“Then why on earth did you keep it?”

“So I can bring my enemies unfavorable outcomes.”

“Gee thanks,” Takao sarcastically says, but he turns back to the liquid on the ground and thoroughly coats the arrowhead in the substance. “Step back, kay? I’mma be throwing this.”

“Wait,” Midorima interjects, plucking the arrow off of Takao’s fingers while minding not to touch the coated arrowhead. “Where do you want me to shoot it?”

“There’s no way in hell that arrow can be even drawn on the bow.”

“Watch and learn, amateur.” Midorima scoffs as he draws the bow with ease, even with a questionable arrow. “Like I said, my shooting range knows no bounds.” Takao sighs and silently points to a nearby patch of flowers as the target and watches in extreme doubt, waiting for Midorima to gauge the distance and strength of the winds before he gracefully lets the arrow go… and perfectly hit the mark. On impact, the arrow caused an explosion.

“Wow…” Takao whistles. “I’m actually impressed.”

“What the hell did you do to that arrow?!”

“Just had a hypothesis. Thought the concoction might’ve needed a catalyst to push it to that point. Guess the trip wasn’t a waste after all,” Takao chuckles, satisfaction visible on his face. “Alright, marksman prodigy, looks like you aren’t half-bad after all. I got all my things, and we can go back.”

“You never stay on a single topic, do you, alchemist?”

“Well after we get to the city, you don’t ever have to hang around me anymore,” he laughs, speed walking away and skipping from excitement at the possibilities of his experiment results.

“... So it seems.”

———

The trip back to the city was mostly uneventful, mostly consisting of Takao’s eyes sparkling whenever anything of interest nearby catches his interest and Midorima gruffly scolding him to keep his eyes on the destination instead. Still, despite the many setbacks and detours, they reached home by dusk.

“And you better not say a single word about what happened out there,” Midorima threatens, jabbing a finger at Takao’s chest.

“My word is as solid as your own, archer,” he shrugs in reply, flicking his finger off to evoke a reaction. It worked. Midorima gave his signature scowl and was about to deliver another retort, but he was interrupted by the locals, who happened to be concerned for Takao’s whereabouts the entire day.

“Kazu!”

A few children and tailing mothers run up to the pair. The mothers were ready to apologize for their children’s eagerness, but Takao reassured them that the children were always welcome to chat with him. Midorima raises a brow at the amicable atmosphere he easily exudes.

“Kazu! Where have you been all day?! I wanted to see sparkly flowers! And shiny rocks! And glowy juice!”

“I’m sorry for my child’s lack of manners, but everyone was worried where you disappeared off to… I guess our anxiousness really rubbed off on everyone today…”

“Ah ha… it’s no problem ma’am, really…” Takao laughs. “I was just occupied with alchemist duties today!” Midorima sends a pointed look on cue at his words.

“B-B-But… you’re always so busy with the grown-up stuff lately… and you never have time to show us your collection anymore…”

“Well, how about to make it up…”

Midorima feels extremely out of place, feeling like he’s intruding on a conversation he shouldn’t be a part of. Before he turned to wordlessly leave and let them talk in peace, the children finally noticed the archer and stared unabashedly in wonder.

“Who’s this scary man, Mr. Alchemist?”

“What the—? Who are you calling sca—oof—” When Midorima instinctively tried to shoot back in defense, Takao immediately jabbed him with an elbow to stop any potential harsh comments from slipping.

“He’s actually the archer who helped me with my duties today… right?” Takao sends a “secretive” wink and Midorima only averts his eyes away.

“Ooh! Ooh! He’s the super duper strong archer superhero Dad always tells me about!”

“Y-Yeah…” Midorima coughs into his fist. “I shoot… arrows.” Takao struggles to hold in his laugh at his awkwardness with the children… or his awkwardness in expressing kindness overall.

“Well… it’s getting late kids, we have to go home and prepare supper for everyone.”

“Awww, but can we play with the archer hero tomorrow if we go home now?” The children turned their puppy eyes to Midorima and he immediately took a step back, frantically eyeing Takao to step in and help. Takao gives a playful smirk before he coughs and pretends to be stern.

“You children know better now,” Takao says in a mock-deep voice. “If you listen to your parents, eat healthy, and sleep early, you’ll get to play more with me and one day be a strong warrior too.” The said “strong warrior” turned away to facepalm to refrain from any snide comments slipping.

After the locals slowly dissipate after exchanging pleasantries with the alchemist, Midorima turns to face him.

“... You weren’t joking when you said you knew everyone here, huh.”

“Yep,” he says, popping the “p” at the end. “It makes daily life less mundane for a civilian like me. Not like someone like you can understand.”

“Conversations like these are meddlesome and quite unnecessary. That being said, I bid you a decent night.”

“You can just say ‘good night’ like a regular person,” Takao scoffs.

Midorima only scoffs back and makes haste for the guild hall.

———

Maybe it’s because Midorima is finally paying attention to the city life rather than keeping his head in his own world, or maybe it’s because he personally was recently acquainted with Takao, but from that point on, all he hears throughout the chattering and gossips were talks of “Takao Kazunari, the enlightener.” It somewhat agitates him that that’s all he’s been hearing for the past several days… nonstop. It doesn’t really help when some of the city children are actually actively hunting down the said archer everyday to make him “play with them,” like Takao promised to them that night.

He’s going to punch him if he ever sees that airhead again.

Still, it was a coincidence (or not) that Midorima found Takao’s craft table in a desolate corner of the city under a modest porch for someone who was the esteemed individual. Here was Takao, carefully eyeballing the measurements with his tongue sticking out in complete concentration. Quite typical of him.

“There are measuring tools for a reason, dumbass.” Takao dumbly blinks before he registers that Midorima was right in front of the table before he frowns.

“Ugh, go away,” he says half-heartedly. “I’m busy.”

“From the way everyone talks about you, I still can’t believe that their image of you is completely different than what I’m witnessing right now.”

“So you heard, huh?” he mumbles, obviously not paying attention to Midorima as he continues to eye the beaker up close. “People can say whatever they want… I’m just doing what must be done within my abilities. Tools are kind of stupid anyways. How can you discover new things when you use such orthodox methods? Besides, you can’t talk considering that you use fucking broken arrows and shoddy sticks for your archery.”

Midorima crosses his arms and frowns. “That’s different. It was just specific days that have been granted luck by the stars.”

“Say whatever you want, but we both do our things our own ways to push the limits of what humans thought were previously impossible.”

“I suppose you’re correct… for once.” Midorima stares at his handiwork, trying to comprehend the process of the art of alchemy. “So… what are you trying to do?”

“Dunno… the results were kind of surprising but I think if I can just change a certain property of this element… it can end up being groundbreaking…” Midorima widens his eyes in genuine curiosity and then narrows his eyes in deep thought to try to think of what “property” Takao was speaking of.

“And what’s this ‘groundbreaking’ result you have in mind?” Takao looks up from his table in mild surprise.

“You’re actually… interested in this?” Midorima simply turns his face away but says nothing, and Takao chuckles. “Well, if you’re that curious, I’m hoping that this can lead to a method in harnessing the power of the elements in crafted tools and weapons and push human civilization to be more adaptive to our environment than just… being walled up here all day.”

Midorima turns to face Takao in unabashed amazement, staring at his intense gaze that was unlike what he previously knew of him. He turns away after a few seconds when he feels his ears slightly burn, unable to handle the intensity of the moment. So this was the true alchemist side of Takao Kazunari that everyone praised.

“And, well,” Takao laughs, already returning back to his happy-go-lucky character. “There’s no way that I’ll be accepted to the guild if I reapply and don’t show them anything new. Plus, I’m not gonna lose to the likes of you.”

At his challenge, Midorima tuts in irritation and hits the top of his head with his fist, which was exactly the main objective that prompted him to look for Takao in the first place.

“What the fuck is your proble—”

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Midorima says stiffly, swiftly turning away to walk back where he came from and leaving Takao to stare at the retreating figure in mild annoyance.

“Still…” Takao grumbles. “Why did this guy stop by my workspace anyways? It’s not easy to find this spot in the back of the city, either… Surely, he must have more important things to attend to… like that perpetrator-at-large…”

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Takao likes to think that Midorima stopped by to learn more about his craft that he dedicated his whole life to. That same wishful thinking also paints an unfamiliar red hue across his face.

———

“Momoi-san.”

“Oh? Mido-kun!” A pink-haired woman whirls around to face the abnormally tall archer. “It’s quite rare to see you here!”

“Ahem…” He coughs into his fist. “When are guild applications opening up again?”

“That’s a good question actually…” she hums. “Akashi is kind of fickle and has been in a more volatile mood since he’s still tracking down the leader of that rebel group from yesterday, but I predict that they’ll open again quite soon, considering that the waves of enemies haven’t subsided at all… Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to put in word for a potential recruit.”

“Uhhh… are you even the same Mido-kun I know? You should know that if you recommend someone in and they get recruited, you take full responsibility for them and—”

“And form an official team with them while showing them the policies, proper conduct and customs, and other adventurer essentials. Who do you think you take me for?”

“Right… may I ask who’s this person you’re planning to recommend?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the city’s biggest alchemist.”

“Takao Kazunari? W-Well, yes, but… I’m sure you’re aware that you were picked over him in the last recruitment session,” Momoi says, slightly cringing at the memory of Takao’s crushed expression when he found out that he was rejected.

“This time, he has something to offer to the guild that no one else can,” Midorima says. “Something that not even Akashi can afford to overlook.”

“B-But!” Momoi protests. “Wouldn’t him being paired with you be a very bad idea? I mean, I’m not sure if teamwork is even possible considering what happened.”

“On the contrary,” Midorima replies, a small smile playing on his lips. “Fate tells me that we would make a very efficient duo.”

#KNBSecretSanta2020 #kuroko no basket #knb fic #knb fics #midorima x takao #takao kazunari #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #rpg au #knb fluff #knb scenarios #midorima shintaro x takao kazunari #knb midorima #knb takao #midotaka

7 notes · View notes

lupizora · 3 years

Text

Show Me How Life Could Be

This is my extremely late gift for Jenny (@/froochette) for the @knbsecretsanta . I haven't written for this pairing or concept before and wanted to challenge myself with it. Well, the joke's on me that (once) again the fic went out of hand. This feels more platonic than romantic to me, but I'll let you guys be the judge.

Hope you like it anyway! ♥

P.S. Of course, I'd make it about basketball in one way or another, what are you talking about?

Genre: Humour

Pairing: (platonic) MidoMura

Rating: G

Word Count: 4,191

Summary: Midorima only wanted to do his job properly. Not get into a fight with their most loyal customer and have his life decisions questioned by everyone. Even if maybe, deep down, he was regretting some of them.

Humans show their true colors when faced with someone weaker than themselves.

Midorima Shintarou hadn’t considered himself weak in any regard. On the contrary, he had lived most of his life in moderate privilege: well-off parents, good grades, and boundless athletic ability. This didn’t stop him from always striving with his own two hands for the best humanly possible outcome though. Thus, above all, he fancied himself as a humble person. Acquaintances--friends, depending on who one asked--would often disagree with that statement. But Midorima wanted to believe he had never been as condescending as some of his customers.

The coffee shop he worked part-time was a small cozy place. Located next to the university’s library and lacking any big brand name attached to its identity, it exclusively attracted students who wanted a break from studying or to spend some time between classes. The relaxed pace and the versatile schedule were the biggest reasons Midorima had applied for the position--even if the pay wasn’t anything stellar. As an undergraduate medical student, he didn’t have a lot of free time but he couldn’t impose on his parents forever either. They were already paying for his tuition and half of his rent. It was only fair of him to handle the rest and his day-to-day expenses to the best of his abilities.

For the most part, work was uneventful. Except for the moments when Midorima had to wonder if it was indeed worth the trouble. From demanding customers to people skipping the line and making a fuss over nothing to his personal worst nightmare: customers that seemed to have lost their ability to read written instructions and signs. The redundancy of having to explain simple things annoyed him to no end, as well as the fact they were distracting him from his duties for these trivial issues. Instead of wallowing in despair, Midorima had settled for the next best thing: seething in rage silently. With no other outlet to alleviate this frustration, he’d often picture himself offering retribution to such customers. For example, jumping over the counter to land a solid dropkick to their chest, or throwing the tips jar to their head as they were about to leave. He could make that shot easily from behind the counter and none would be the wiser. The perks of being a former shooting guard known for his ridiculous three-pointers--distance was irrelevant.

Not all customers were irredeemable fools though. Some regulars could be considered at least tolerable, like one Murasakibara Atsushi. The only reason Midorima knew the guy’s name was because of Takao’s snooping. His old teammate/friend kept tabs for all the regulars, more so if they had been involved with high school basketball. Apparently, Murasakibara had been a formidable center in some powerhouse team. It baffled Midorima how such a player had escaped his attention during the championships he had participated in. It shouldn’t have been hard to recognize someone who loomed over the general public like some giant out of an old wive’s tale.

No one seemed to know what Murasakibara was majoring in, but it allowed him to visit the coffee shop every other day. After trying the entire dessert menu in the span of two weeks, he settled on a particular combo. It didn’t matter when he decided to appear, he’d always order the same thing. It saved Midorima a lot of time for which he was somewhat grateful; even if this person’s consumption of sugar worried him as a future medical professional, and cleaning the table after him could become quite a hassle.

Midorima valued rules and order. As painfully hard as it might be to accept, not everyone felt the same way. He was just a glorified waiter in a low-end establishment. He’d do his job, regardless if it was aggravating or not. Keeping his temper in check when faced with personal offenses included, but sometimes there was a limit for even the most patient individuals.

The first term’s midterms had just ended the previous day. Most students seized the opportunity to catch up with their friends over a cup of coffee and some sweets on the side. Suffice to say, the shop was relatively crowded for a regular Wednesday.

Midorima was on cash register duty. Passing all his classes should had left him in a good mood. His horoscope was a bit cloudy that morning though, placing Cancer in 5th place. Nothing too worrisome but he didn’t want to test his luck with handling beverages. So he pushed the responsibility to Takao--who, accustomed to his quirks, only mildly complained--and settled for taking the customer’s orders. Most of the shift went without any incident, but one thing was certain.

Oha Asa was never wrong about his fate.

Midorima didn’t notice the bell chime of the front door above the ruckus of voices. Neither the footsteps approaching heavily. It wasn’t until the lights overhead were partly obscured that he realized Murasakibara had arrived.

With a glance to ascertain the customer’s identity, Midorima began inputting his order. “Would it be the usual?” he asked.

“Actually,” Murasakibara said. “Muro-chin is going to order this time.”

Midorima’s fingers froze and looked once again, properly this time.

There was another student next to his regular customer. He was slightly shorter than Midorima; dark-haired with several locks of hair falling over his left eye. While he appeared like a polite individual, there was too much-concealed amusement in that eye for Midorima’s liking.

“My name is Himuro Tatsuya,” he said with a wave. “I’m sorry if I’m breaking your routine or something. Atsushi wasn’t really planning on coming today--”

“Because today is no good,” Murasakibara muttered under his breath.

“--I kinda dragged him along because I didn’t know where is this. You see, I’ve heard so many good things about this place, I had to see it for myself.”

Takao was wheezing in the back, the coffee machine’s whirling barely overshadowing his laughter.

Midorima ignored him. “What would you like to order then, sir?”

“Nothing extravagant. Just black coffee,” Himuro said. “I am curious about the desserts you have though. They look delicious, but it's hard to choose. Is there something you’d suggest I try?”

On most days, Midorima would stare blankly at such questions until someone came to rescue him from the embarrassment. Instead, this time, he had the fortune of having a dessert in mind. If only because he waited every week to keep a piece of it for himself.

“Today’s specialty is the red bean cheesecake,” he said. “It may sound peculiar but I assure you--”

“It’s stale,” Murasakibara interrupted him. He was examining the display, bored. “Let’s just leave. I told you there is nothing good today.”

“As I was saying.” Midorima adjusted his glasses, annoyance bubbling in his chest. “It tastes perfectly fine. It’s not too sweet so I’d recommend it if you are looking for something to enjoy along with your coffee.”

“This is worse than those in the convenience store,” he cut him off yet again.

“I assure you, sir, that all our desserts are freshly baked.”

“C’mon, Muro-chin. I can make something a lot better and you know it.”

“Why don’t you make it then?”

"Huh?" Slamming his hand on the counter, Murasakibara leaned over the register to level his gaze with Midorima. “Is that a challenge?”

Two things happened simultaneously: Midorima realized he had said that aloud and someone tried to separate them.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," Takao said with a nervous chuckle.

His intervention only deepened Murasakibara’s glare.

Midorima remained unfazed in front of this attitude. He wasn’t one to get intimidated, even in the rare occurrence the other person was a head taller than him.

“I said what I said.” Keeping his tone even, he returned the glare with equal force. “Now, if you aren’t planning on ordering anything, I’d advise you to step aside. Other customers are waiting.”

On his side, Takao facepalmed with a groan, and he could certainly swear Himuro stifled a snicker.

They remained locked in their stare-off until Murasakibara pulled back. Turning on his heels, he stormed out without another word.

Himuro apologized for the trouble and followed him, leaving the rest of the customers to glance between them in awkward silence.

“Now what?” Takao asked.

For once, Midorima didn’t have the slightest idea.

Several days passed and Murasakibara was still absent.

Midorima went about his shifts, as usual, trying to ignore both Takao's whining and his internal monologue about the whole affair. Their manager had been furious. But no one was more disappointed than Midorima for losing his temper over something this mundane. Personal feelings aside, he should have kept his professionalism as he had always done.

Of course, he wasn’t planning on apologizing if they met each other again. While it had been inappropriate to get into a fight with a customer, Murasakibara had started it with his rude unprompted commentary. The shop had other regulars so one's disappearance wouldn’t have any impact on their earnings. It was going to be alright.

“Pretty boy alert at ten o’clock,” one of the girls announced. All three of them had gathered behind the desserts and snacks display, giggling among themselves.

Midorima seldom participated in such idle gossip. It seemed pointless and distracting. Maybe if his colleagues found something else to pass the time, they wouldn’t need to stay overtime that often.

Unlike him though, Takao seemed to enjoy the social aspect of it. So after taking a peek, he slid into Midorima’s personal space with a conspiratory air about him. “Shin-chan, you might wanna take this,” he whispered, pointing at the spot of interest.

It was one of the tables next to the shop’s glass facade. Himuro Tatsuya was sitting all alone there.

“Why don’t you go?” Midorima asked, shelving the washed cups from the sink.

“Don’t be silly,” Takao said with a laugh. “We, average guys, have our pride you know.”

That was the most absurd thing Midorima had heard in a while. Takao was by no means average-looking, considering the amount of attention he got from both men and women. But he kept this thought to himself.

“Ask someone else.”

“Don’t be like that. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Minami and the others.” He grabbed him by the shoulders. “Fighting over a guy is an ugly thing. They might break apart! Think of their friendship! Their friendship, Shin-chan!”

There was zero proof of something like that happening. Even for a reserved person like Midorima, it was plain as day those girls were joined at the hip. But whenever Takao resorted to dramatics, he could only oblige to make him stop bothering him.

He sighed. “Alright.”

Taking his notepad along, he approached the table in question. Hushed whispers followed him, making wonder with half a mind if this was some kind of ploy. His horoscope hadn’t heeded any important warnings for that day. He had been prepared with the appropriate lucky item regardless.

Himuro noticed him only when he reached him. “Hello again.”

“Hello,” Midorima replied politely, still a bit uncertain from his joyful greeting. “What can I bring you?”

“There must be a misunderstanding?” He pointed at the cup on his table “I’ve already ordered. Your colleague there brought it to me.”

From behind the counter, everyone gave Midorima a thumbs up. It dawned on him then and there. This had been a set up from the start. Forcing him to interact with Murasakibara’s friend in hopes of learning about his whereabouts.

He resisted the urge to snap his pencil in half. Even his good looks wouldn’t save Takao from his wrath when he returned to the register.

“It’s alright. I can order once more,” Himuro said, appeasingly. “I didn’t have the chance to try your famed sweets last time after all.”

Swallowing his anger, Midorima returned to his work mode. “Is there something, in particular, you’d like?”

“Some of your macarons perhaps.”

“Excellent choice. We’ve got a new batch just today. These are made from this university’s Culinary Arts Department.”

“I know. One of Atsushi’s upperclassmen is responsible for them.”

Midorima looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Pastry chef is his major?”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t figured it out already, given how often he visits this place.” Himuro’s visible eye twinkled with hidden amusement. “He eats too many sweets and snacks for his wallet to handle. This hasn’t changed since our high school days, to be honest. The only difference is that now he started making his own, so we don’t have something to bribe him with anymore,” he said with a sigh. “It’s an uphill battle to bring him to practice lately.”

“Both of you are still playing, I presume?”

“Yes, with the varsity team.” Resting his chin against his knuckles, Himuro assessed him. ”I see you’re very informed, Mr. Midorima Shintarou of Impossible Threes.”

“I’m simply acquainted with an extremely nosy person,” Midorima said. It didn’t take long for Takao to learn about the rest of Murasakibara’s teammates after meeting Himuro. “Where you aware of me from the beginning?”

“I had my suspicions since you’re quite the urban legend around here. FYI, your taped fingers gave you away,” he said with a wry smile. “As someone playing in the same position, I was surprised to learn that such a high-profile player as yourself wasn’t playing anymore.”

“Such is life. Different priorities call for different measures.”

“That is true, I suppose. Do you miss it?”

The sun reflecting on his glasses erased the current view from Midorima’s eyes. He was on the court. Everything was silent; no shoes squelching against the wooden boards; no desperate cries for victory. He was holding the rough leather ball, preparing to shoot. The motion effortless and practiced to the finest tuning possible. He always exhaled when the ball left his hands as if spelling a prayer. It went in with barely a sway of the net. It always did.

“My time is limited for the effort the sport requires,” he said.

“That’s too bad.” Himuro returned to his coffee. “I wonder if Atsushi would be more motivated if he had someone of your caliber to compete against.”

"It must be nice being so simple-minded."

"Simple-minded, huh?" He looked wistfully outside. "That's not a word I'd use to describe him."

Midorima stopped scribbling in his notepad. "Meaning?"

"Sure, to an outsider, Atsushi might appear as such. He seems to go with the flow of his surroundings because that's the easiest thing to do. It might be partly true. It's rare to see him get truly passionate about something that doesn't involve his specific interests." He stirred his coffee. "But you managed to light that fire in him, even if for a single moment. That must amount to something, don’t you think?"

This is preposterous, Midorima thought.

Not everyone had the freedom to just do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Usually, another obligation or circumstance would force someone to go against their wishes and that's how their society worked. One couldn't bend the rules as they pleased. No one had such total control over their life. Midorima definitely didn't and it made him no different than the next person. That's another fact he had accepted without a second thought. There was no way a boring person like him could influence someone's life to any degree, more so a person he had barely held an entire conversation with.

Shaking his head, he focused on the task at hand. "Will that be all?"

"Yes." Himuro smiled. “That’d be all.

The Friday afternoon shift was the quietest of the week. Students preferred to visit the nearest bar or karaoke box rather than the café. It was only natural. No one wanted to follow the same routine, more so during the start of summer vacation. Midorima simply enjoyed the opportunity to avoid interacting with any customers for once.

A storm had been brewing over the horizon for most of that day. So, after a while, Midorima told Minami to return home; criminally unprepared that girl, she never carried an umbrella. Her assistance wouldn’t have been necessary anyway. The shop was empty, allowing him to do some deep cleaning of the place with everyone gone. Halfway through polishing the tables, the rain started to fall outside; a gentle pitter-pattering on the glass ceiling at first, before the heavens opened up and unleashed their fury to the ground. This downpour accompanied Midorima for the rest of his tasks--a white noise lulling him into some peaceful trance. Nothing else mattered; not his gossip-loving coworkers nagging him; not that Murasakibara hadn’t appeared for over a week.

He had finished mopping near the entrance when the double doors rattled. The sun wasn’t bound to set for a couple more hours. Yet, the scenery outside was as dark as if night had fallen. Midorima couldn’t figure out who was out there, knocking at the door with such urgency. Leaving the cleaning supplies aside, he unlocked the door.

Humidity hanged in the air, pressing against his face like a wet blanket. “Is there something I can help--”

Midorima noticed the jacket, draped over a light-colored package the person was holding in their hands. Allowing his gaze to travel upwards, he took in their bulky torso which was clad in a drenched t-shirt. Locks of hair were glued on their cheeks and forehead like jungle vines.

Despite all that, Murasakibara appeared only mildly annoyed and maybe a bit out of breath. “Took you long enough,” he drawled.

“What are you doing?” Midorima asked.

“I came as soon as it was ready.”

Annoyance spread hot in his chest. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining right now!”

“That’s why I covered it with my jacket.” He had the nerve to sigh. “For someone wearing glasses, you sure are blind.”

“Excuse me?” Still processing what just happened, Midorima had lost his usual eloquence. “You...it’s been days...and the first thing that comes out of your mouth--”

“Do we have to talk about it here? It’s gonna melt if it stays outside any longer.”

You should have thought of it earlier! He cried in his mind, allowing the other inside in the process.

His sandals squelched against the tiles as Murasakibara beelined for the counter, paying no attention to the watery footprints he was living behind.

Conjuring all his remaining patience, Midorima took the dripping jacket from his hands. “I’ll get you a towel,” he said and disappeared into the backroom.

When he re-emerged, the other had made himself comfortable on a stool. Miffed by his nonchalant attitude, Midorima threw the towel on Murasakibara’s head and took a seat as well. The package was left on the counter between them. Similar to the ones their sweets tended to arrive in, the unassuming beige carton box was definitely from the Culinary Arts department.

Murasakibara peeked from under the towel. “Are you mad?”

“No.”

“You look mad.”

“I simply want to know what your issue is, coming here in such a manner.” He pointed at the box. “What is this thing too.”

“Open it.” Shrugging, he proceeded to dry his hair. “It’s for you, anyway.”

Midorima quirked an eyebrow, more baffled by this development. Since he didn’t receive any further clarification, he warily opened the box. It was a cheesecake; specifically, a red bean cheesecake like the one their dispute had been about. Perhaps it was the sentiment getting to him, but he was oddly touched.

“You made this?” He asked softly.

Murasakibara hummed in agreement.

“I can't possibly eat the whole thing alone.”

"You can share it or sell it. I don't really care as long as you have the first bite."

"We aren't allowed to put unregistered or unordered sweets for sale,” Midorima said absentmindedly. “Since you went through the trouble anyway, I suppose it’s only fair I give it a chance. I can leave the rest for the others to try. Do you want a piece too?" Seeing him hesitating, he stood up and put the machines to work. “I’ll make you something warm to drink. Summer colds are horrible to catch, especially this time of the year.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t take long for the hot chocolate to get ready. Meanwhile, Midorima found something else for Murasakibara to change into and leave his shirt to dry. As a future doctor, it’d be criminal to let someone get sick in his presence. He also dealt with the dessert, cutting two slices for them and putting the rest of it aside in the freezer. All the while, Murasakibara followed him with his gaze as he moved about like a busy bee. Midorima would prefer to renounce his lucky item of the day than admit he had missed the comfortable silence between them. In a world where everyone seemed eager to involve him in things, this moment was an oasis of tranquility.

“Alright,” he said placing the cup in front of Murasakibara.

“You won’t drink anything?”

Midorima returned to his seat. “I’m not one for sweets.”

“I thought you might have one of your canned red bean soups along with this.” He blew at his cup with an indifferent expression. But his eyes seemed to search for a reaction. “Why red and not green beans, by the way? Considering your hair.”

“I don’t mix those two.” Cutting his fork into the slice, he brought a decent-sized portion to his lips. “It’s unsightly.”

Whatever he might have wanted to add, drifted from his mind after taking that bite. It was leagues better than anything Midorima had eaten so far. Compared to this, his regular Wednesday slice might as well be from the lowest shelf of the bottom-ranked convenience store’s fridge.

“You liked it,” Murasakibara said.

It wasn’t a question, and for once Midorima didn’t feel like arguing.

“I accept my defeat,” he said with grave seriousness. “Why did you have to go through such lengths, though?”

“To prove you wrong.”

On second thought, pettiness was an acceptable reason. “I work here. There was no need to get personal.”

“Yeah, but you did.” Draping the towel around his neck, he tied his hair into a low ponytail again. “It was the first time Mido-chin reacted so strongly about anything.”

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced to make nicknames for me.”

“I read your tag,” he said as if it was obvious.

“You’d be surprised how many people can’t do so. But that’s beside the point,” he said with a wave. “Emotions aren’t needed to do my job. In fact, this whole situation brought me a lot of trouble.”

“But you don’t look so dead inside anymore.”

Taken aback, Midorima was speechless.

“It’s true,” Murasakibara continued. “I know you don’t have to talk a lot and I didn’t mind. It made things easier for me too. I didn’t have to think about what to say back like with the others. But with nothing else to do, I watched you from my table. The only time I ever saw you enjoying yourself were in your breaks, sipping canned red bean soup in the corner, or whenever the others tried to pull you into their shenanigans.”

“I certainly don’t appreciate them making a fool of themselves in front of the customers.”

“You’re lying.” He leaned closer. “And when it’s not those moments, you’re like a beast. Pacing in the cage you made for yourself. Like you’re waiting for something. Why are you still tapping your finger if aren’t playing basket anymore?”

Clenching his fist, Midorima didn’t back down. “Let’s say you are right, and that’s purely hypothetical. What’s in for you?”

“Passionate but talentless players annoy me. But talented players choosing to give up annoys me even more.” Murasakibara sat down, his expression turning solemn. “They remind me of something I’d rather forget.”

This statement echoed personal and all too familiar. Midorima wasn’t someone that poked into other people’s business, not actively at least. Still, he could understand the sentiment. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he’d ponder over his current course in life and get mad at himself; for not pushing through harder; for leaving something he loved aside without much thought. Maybe this was finally the chance he’d been waiting to come.

“Say,” he said; his throat dry and his words timid, “if I challenged you into a match, would you accept?”

“You’re deaf as much as you’re blind.” The jab had not actual heat behind it though. “Yes, without a doubt.”

“With that settled, I hope you won’t hold back. Otherwise, I’ll obliterate you.” His ever-bored eyes widening, just a smudge, got Midorima a bit self-conscious. “Is something the matter?” he added.

“You surprised me,” Murasakibara said, rubbing his neck. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, I think.”

“I simply enjoy a decent challenge.” He took another bite off his slice of the cheesecake. “Don't you?”

The other considered it for a moment. "Only when I know I'll win."

It roused another round of pointless bickering. But, truth be told, Midorima hadn’t felt more alive in while.

#knb #knbsecretsanta2020 #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #takao kazunari #himuro tatsuya #knb fanfiction #knb fic #fanfiction #fanfic #coffee shop au #college au #coffee shop/college au #did I channel my feelings about work through Midorima?#yes definitely #those fantasies were the biggest reason I tried to write a coffee shop AU for the first time in my life #too hilarious of an opportunity to pass XDD #wolfswriting

4 notes · View notes